Hero Frequency
by EverythingIsMagic
Summary: America's got the coolest and most awesome band in school, and he's totally going to win the Battle of the Bands contest. Or at least he might, if he can get England to put aside their past issues long enough to play guitar... USxUK- Gakuen AU
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This is for dawn-crescendo at the USxUK livejournal Secret Santa. It will be five chapters long, and I'll have it completed by Christmas Eve!

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**Hero Frequency**

_Chapter One_

**By Everything is Magic**

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"_I'm on my feet, I'm on the floor, I'm good to go_," America sang along, his heart pounding almost as if in rhythm to the music, his feet thumping against the tiled floor in a run, his mp3 player jiggling, hanging secure from a clip on his backpack. He dodged students, skidding to the side upon almost running into a gaggle of girls, and then slamming his palm into a locker to keep himself from falling.

"_Now all I need is just to hear a song I know_," he continued, his voice growing winded as he sped toward his destination, his sneakers squeaking and scuffing the floor as he turned a sharp corner. One of his ear buds fell free from his ear, and he quickly shoved it back in with a quiet curse.

"_I wanna always feel like part of this was mine_." He stopped in front of the office door, inhaling a quick sharp breath, and slamming it open. "_I wanna fall in love tonigh_--- "

"Idiot, what do you want?"

America ripped his ear buds out and paused his mp3 player, shooting a smirk at the fellow student who had interrupted him.

England was standing across the room, hands at his hips and a characteristic scowl on his face. His uniform blazer was immaculately pressed, so crisp that America swore that he would have obtained something akin to a paper cut had he tried to touch one of the edges.

America ran a hand through his hair and shrugged, ignoring England's greeting as he sauntered across the room, stopping in front of a small table with a slit-top box atop it. "I honestly thought I'd turned this in already!" America reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, slipping it into the box. "It's a good thing I'm awesome and got here before four." He paused and glanced at his watch; 3:59.

"You're signing up for the band competition?" England was now next to America, and his perpetual frown had an edge of curiosity to it.

America nodded. "Yeah! I'm gonna be awesome."

He scoffed. "Right. Of course. How could I ever doubt you?"

"Good question." America grinned pressing his hand to the wall next to him. "Hey student council president, can you tell me who else signed up?"

England straightened his blazer and shook his head. "You know what? According to the clock right there, which by the way, is the clock I always go by for student council activities." He gestured to a round analog clock above the red cherry wood desk that was the most prominent piece of furniture in the student council room. "According to that clock, it was 4:01 when you put your slip in. Signups close at four."

America's shoulders drooped and he looked crestfallen. "C-c'mon England you wouldn't…"

The shorter boy sighed, and his cheeks pinked very slightly. "G-git. I'll let you enter, but don't get me wrong, it's not for you. It's just that I'd prefer you to win over some other people who have entered."

America turned, half-sitting on the edge of the table. "Wow! So you are capable of being considerate after all."

England whipped around, storming back to his desk with a furrow of his brows and a curse. "Don't make me take it back, America. I am the studen---"

"You are the student council president, I know." He made a face, as if imitating England's glower. "So who else is participating?"

The other boy raised his thick eyebrows. "Prussia, Finland, Poland, Seychelles and… Korea are the students I have forms from. I don't know who will be part of their bands though."

America tapped his chin. "I've got Canada on drums and Japan doing keyboard. I'll be doing lead vocals of course, because Hero Frequency needs my awesome voi---"

"_Hero Frequency_?" England leaned against the cherry wood desk, shuffling a stack of papers in his hands. "Preposterous."

"More like amazing," America countered. "Anyway, we're still looking for two more members…"

England averted his eyes away from America, down to the stack of papers. He tightened his grip on them. "I'm afraid I can't help you with that."

And then America was beside him, resting a hand on his stiff shoulder. "C'mon England. We could really use you on guitar…"

He jerked away from America's touch sharply, nearly dropping the papers in the process. "Don't you _dare_ ask. I'm not going to help."

America reached out again, before thinking twice about it and pulling back. "But you're good at it, and we're friends so I thought…"

"We're friends?" England snapped. "We're friends when it's convenient for us, you mean?"

"E-England I--- "

"Get out," he interrupted. "I'll say you were too late to sign up if you don't leave now and drop it."

* * *

England bewildered America. He confused him so damn much that he often felt a headache coming on just at the thought of the student council president. He'd left at England's forceful urging, not wanting to risk losing his position in the school's Battle of the Bands. In truth, he'd been practicing his vocals for weeks, and he thought he was… well… pretty damn awesome.

England wasn't wrong. The two of them barely talked to each other unless they had a favor to ask of each other; whether it be England trying to borrow audio equipment from the sports teams for a student council assembly, or America asking for clearance on an extra hour of court time for the basketball team every Wednesday.

But it hadn't always been that way, America considered, as he sat on his bed in the dormitory and idly flipped through his pre-calculus textbook. When they'd entered high school, the two had been close, albeit bickering, friends.

Their interests had diverged though, and when England took on the role of student council president, their fights began to escalate as well. Playful bickering turned into legitimately hurtful arguments, and the negative tension between them turned into something palpable. America was an idiot, England abused his power, and now all their friendship was good for was the occasional exchange of favors.

And America guessed that it had finally gotten to England, judging by his earlier outburst. He sighed, running a hand down his face and slamming shut his textbook.

He felt a pang in his heart over it, tight, like the guitar strings that reminded him of England. England was an amazing player. America recalled going over to his dorm the first year of high school and listening to him. He was shy about playing publicly, and America couldn't understand why at all. In addition to being able to rock the six strings like no other, he had a raw, husky, and powerful singing voice that---

America pressed his hands to his cheeks and rubbed, willing the flush that had risen to them to go away.

His twin brother, Canada, who he shared his dorm with, would be back soon, and he wanted to be ready to talk about the band! Japan was coming over too. He shoved his textbook in his backpack and slid off his bed, running to the bathroom and rinsing his face with cool water in attempt to clear his head. They'd rock this, even if they only had… umm… drums and a keyboard. America's awesome was enough to make up for that, he knew it!

A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and he slid across the bathroom tile and answered his dormitory door. Japan and Canada greeted him, having found each other on the way to the dorm and come together.

America shot them both a grin and a booming 'hello,' before shutting the door behind them and quickly gesturing them to follow. Canada sat on his bed, and the other two shifted into a comfortable position on America's bed.

"I got us signed up!" America beamed at his two companions. Japan gave him a soft smile, toying with the fabric at the edge of his best friend's superhero comforter as he did so.

"Eh? That's good," Canada replied. "So…"

"Practices start tomorrow," America explained. "Each band is given two hours every other day after school in one of the music rooms."

"Sounds perfect, America," Japan said, "and the first round is…"

"First show is in three weeks," he answered, "so we'll have plenty of time to practice…"

Canada was leaning back against the wall now, using a white plush polar bear as a makeshift pillow. "What about--- "

"England's not doing it," America interrupted, his expressing turning sour. "His loss of course, because it's going to be so awesome he won't even be able to believe it."

"I-I'm sorry, America," Japan placed a hand on his shoulder, comforting but reserved. "I know we were counting on him."

America pulled away, and gestured with a wave of his hand toward Japan. "Hero Frequency is gonna be amazing, and you know what? We're better off without him. Stodgy guy like him would just bring us down…"

"But you said England was a great guitarist, eh."

At this, America's cheeks colored. "T-that doesn't mean anything. I'm sure we can find someone better. I promise I'll have a new guitarist for us in time for our first practice!"

Japan shot him a skeptical glance. "And when do the practices begin?"

At this, America laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head as he did so. "Um, tomorrow."

"We're screwed, eh," Canada groaned, lying down on his bed all the way. America frowned for a moment, before brightening again.

"No way! D'you know how easy it will be to convince a girl to do this for me?" He argued. "I mean c'mon…"

"But you'll have to find someone who can play the guitar," Canada countered.

America deflated slightly. "Y-yeah well, Hero Frequency is destined for greatness, so I'm sure I will!"

Japan mulled on this for a moment, before nodding. "America certainly has the capability to be very persuasive. I'm sure he'll find someone..."

Canada sighed. "Or he could just ask England again…"

America threw a pillow at him.

* * *

America, much to even his _own_ shock, came through on his promise to procure a guitarist. Okay, she was proficient as a bassist, but whatever, that would do. It's not like he was going to find anyone better this late in the game.

She was also completely crazy, and even if he'd tried flirting with her to get her attention and interest in taking the job, it's not as if she would have been receptive.

Belarus was interested in only one person, and in fact, that's why she'd agreed to do it in the first place. When he'd yelled very loudly across the cafeteria that afternoon, asking if anyone was interested, she had been the first to approach.

Belarus was in love with Russia. Russia did not acknowledge Belarus's affections. America and Russia hated each other. If Belarus got chummy with America, surely Russia would get jealous and come around, right?

Or at least, in so many clipped words, that's how Belarus had explained it when America had asked why she was offering her talents to the band. And she was good. She'd played for America in a break between classes, and he'd been impressed.

He didn't really care why she did it, just that she was committed to the job. And okay, maybe a little part of him was amused by it as well. Despite Russia's rejection of Belarus's romantic advances, it was obvious he cared about her in some manner, at least. So yeah, this probably would annoy Russia, which America thought would be pretty cool. And it's not like Russia could rightfully get on his case for it, as Belarus was the one who had volunteered. Really, that just made it better.

Plus she'd bring that kind of gothic Lolita thing to the band, which was pretty popular, and that might work in their advantage in the competition. It was an awesome arrangement overall, with many perks, if America did say so.

Belarus was keeping to herself in the corner of the room, plucking the strings of her bass guitar, while America, Japan, and Canada set up their equipment. The drum set and keyboard were being provided by the school, and both of the instrumentalists were toying with them, attempting to get a feel for these individual instruments before the practice formally started.

After playing a few short melodies on the keyboard, Japan approached America and pulled him to the side of the music room, imploring that they speak privately.

"What is it, Japan?" America asked. He leaned against the wall, pressed against a bulletin board that read 'HONOR BAND CAR WASH: APRIL TWENTY-FIRST' in bold, blocky, red construction paper letters.

Japan flitted his eyes to Belarus, who shot him a rueful stare and went back to her guitar. "I'm uh, glad you found someone, America," he said quietly.

America laughed shortly. "Yeah, I know she's not sunshine and daisies, but she's actually pretty good, I promise!"

He nodded. "Well she's an interesting choice, but I trust your decision. Anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

The taller boy tensed slightly. "Huh?"

"It's about England." Japan looked up at him, brown eyes meeting blue, and an intent and thoughtful expression on his features.

America sighed and shook his head, running a hand through his hair and then pausing to rub his forehead. "England says he's tired of us just doing favors to each other, says we're friends only when it's convenient."

"Ah, I wondered when one of you would get upset about that."

"H-hey now!" America defended. "It's not like I don't get that, but what the hell does he want then? It's obvious that he doesn't want to be friends with me like we used to be…"

"What do _you _want, America?" Japan queried frankly. "If you'll excuse me asking, at least. I apologize if I'm making you uncomfortable…"

He shrugged. "Doesn't really matter, I guess. But I mean, you're the best friend I could ask for, really Japan…" America slapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. "I don't need England."

And truly, Japan was an amazing friend. The two had a lot in common, and they'd only grown closer since America's friendship with England had crashed and burned. He wasn't into sports like America was (although they both loved baseball to a ridiculous degree), but science, math, technology, comic books, video games, pretty much everything else America liked, Japan did too. And he was supportive, and… America knew they were unlikely friends, the boisterous blonde and the quiet and subdued Asian boy, but it worked. Japan was enough. He didn't need England in his life, he---

His encouraging smile toward Japan was genuine, but Japan stiffened a bit. "I don't mean the same thing to you that England does, America, if you don't mind me saying." He exhaled. "It's not my wish to be England's replacement, and it's not as if I could be that anyway."

"Japan—no, I really do care about you, man!"

At this, Japan chuckled. "I know, America. I merely mean that—please understand how much I value your friendship, America, firstly. I merely mean that we occupy two different roles in your life."

America bit his lip and turned away, rubbing his elbow with one of his hands. "Practice will be starting soon, so…"

"You really wanted England to join, didn't you?"

America's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed high. "N-not really. I just thought it might work…" He shook his head. "I guess it'd be cool to maybe hang out a bit again, but if he doesn't want to, I get it."

"America--- "

"He'd probably come in here and dictate everything anyway, like the amazing student council president that he is." He feigned a scowl, and a terrible attempt at a British accent. "You, stand over there, and make sure your shirt is tucked in properly, school policy. Is that a chip on your guitar? Get it repaired soon. It looks sloppy."

Unbidden, Japan smiled a bit at this. "England can be a little overbearing, yes."

America snorted. "Yeah, just a _little_." But there was fondness in his expression, as he jogged back over to where Canada sat behind his drums and Belarus was now tuning her guitar. Japan followed. "Okay, are you guys ready for some serious awesome?"

Belarus frowned and continued her guitar ministrations, and Canada sighed and nodded. "The first round is just covers, everyone. We'll not be doing any original material at this one. There are six bands participating, and three get knocked out in the first round, one in the second show, and then it's the last two in a huge showdown."

He paused and grabbed the microphone, shooting a winning smile to his band members. "That's gonna be us, in all three rounds. So prepare for lots of practice, because we're going to take this thing. No one else stands a chance against Hero Frequency!"

America heard Belarus groan at the name of the band, but ignored it. "Belarus is going to be our bassist. She's really great, so make sure to uhh--- get to know her!"

"Hello," Belarus stated simply, before going back to her task. "This will make Russia jealous, right?"

America bit his lip. "Uh yeah, I'll make sure of it."

She glanced at him, a bit darkly. "Good."

He frowned, and the briefest of shivers went through him, before he flickered back into a smile. "All right! Canada on drums, Japan on keyboards, Belarus on bass, and me, the lead, on vocals. I think that's all we need, right?"

He waited for the replies of 'yes' or 'of course,' but instead what he heard next was a slamming open of the room's door. Whipping around, his blue eyes grew large and his mouth dropped open.

England stood there, his perfectly pressed uniform and his scowl unmistakable. And America feared for a moment, that he'd decided to disqualify them from the competition, that in his anger from the previous day, he'd concluded that 4:01 by his clock really _was_ too late to sign up for the band competition. And he felt anger well up inside him, because England, even at his worst, had never done something this petty.

And then he noticed what England was holding. His precious Fender electric guitar, emblazoned with a Union Jack all across the front of the body. It looked bizarrely out of place and almost comedic, slung across his crisply pristine uniform. "I was standing outside the door, just by chance, and well- I don't think that's all you need. You really could do with a lead guitarist."

His face broke into a grin, unbidden. "E-England, are you…"

"Yes, I am," he interrupted, stepping into the room briskly and taking his place beside America. "I found out France was a part of _Glorious Awesome_." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "As you can imagine, that's Prussia's band. Well the last thing I'm going to do is allow that Frog to win this competition, so I figured I'd help by bringing a little bit of competency to _Hero Frequency_." His cheeks were slightly pink as he spoke, hooking his guitar up to the school's provided amp in the process. "So yes, don't misunderstand, this is for my sake that I'm doing this."

And America smiled, and for some reason like maybe he really did kind of want England to do this, and maybe even he sort of thought it might help their relationship out a bit, he felt his heart swell and he was readier than ever to do this damn thing.

Hero Frequency really _was _going to be the most awesome band ever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for the amazing feedback on chapter one!

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**Hero Frequency**

_Chapter Two_

**By Everything is Magic**

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America held the microphone tight in his hands, the cool metal of the handle having grown warm with contact and sweat as they practiced. He found that his grin was wider than it even usually was, and he was enjoying this practice far more than he generally enjoyed singing (which was a lot, because he really loved doing it). It must have been the way they all gelled together. Japan and Canada had known the songs in advance, and Belarus was skilled enough to pick it up quickly. Already, America thought they sounded pretty damn good!

And then there was England, who took to the songs America had chosen like the natural that he was. He'd discarded his blazer near the beginning of practice, and it was easy to see why he needed to. When England had played for America back during their freshman year, he'd been sitting in a chair, holding the guitar in his lap, and playing for a private audience. His expression would be calm and the songs he played mellow.

_This_ England was completely different.

It was like seeing a whole new side of him. His jacket had been discarded because within mere minutes, England had grown too sweaty and hot to wear it. He moved with the guitar, and there was fervor to the way his body shifted in tune with the rise and the fall of the music he was playing and it was… intense. And America found his eyes straying over to England's fingers, as they splayed across the strings and played with such ease in a manner that somehow bequeathed both gentleness and harshness.

He'd never really noticed England's fingers before, because really… why the hell would he pay attention to England's fingers? But they were slender but strong and his knuckles were slightly too knobby for them, but America kind of thought it worked, as opposed to looking awkward.

America turned away with a flush, once he fully registered that he was staring at England's_ fingers_, but he found himself doing it several more times throughout the practice.

And at England's face as well, which scrunched up in concentration at points, his large eyebrows furrowing. Sometimes he'd smirk, usually when he'd finished an impressive riff or at the end of a song. Every once in awhile, he'd throw his head back slightly, his sandy blonde hair becoming more and more tousled as the practice went on. And always, his cheeks were flushed high, and he looked so like he was in his element, that America found himself caught up in his enthusiasm, and he sang a little harder and a little better than he had been before.

When practice was over, every single one of them was panting and breathing heavily, and America congratulated them all, reassuring them that this really was the best band ever. A quirk of a smile appeared on even_ Belarus's_ face at this.

Then there was England, who was unhooking his guitar from the amp. America hopped over to him and tapped him on the shoulder, causing the other boy to jump, startled at the sudden contact.

"What is it America?" His normal countenance was firmly in place now, all prim and proper and irritated, as if the England America had seen minutes before was a figment of his imagination. America sighed and shook his head, biting his lip.

"I uh--- just want to say." He shifted, scuffling his feet back and forth and staring at the ground. Scratching the back of his neck, he shook his head. "Ah, never mind. Just… it's cool that you decided to join, okay?"

_You were amazing. I knew you could play the guitar, but not like that. It's so, so awesome that you joined my band. _

England blinked, his cheeks pinking. "It's--- not a problem. I just know beating France will be worth the trouble."

America nodded, gesturing in front of him. "Y-yeah, of course, and for me, it's just… we need a guitarist, so you'll work, you know."

"Yes…"

"Practice again on Thursday, England!" America proclaimed.

England rolled his eyes. "Idiot. I know. I'm the one who made the schedules." He reached over to grab his blazer, slipping it back on.

"You'll be there then?"

"Of course." England nodded and slung his guitar over his shoulder, leaving America behind in the room with a backward glance.

* * *

Practice continued in much the same way for the next week, the band's enthusiasm growing with each day. Canada, Japan, and America would sit together every afternoon in the cafeteria, discussing the competition with genuine excitement. Even Belarus usually joined them, sitting next to America and shooting backwards glances at Russia as if to _make sure_ he was watching her hanging out with his least favorite person in the school.

England didn't eat with them, and a part of America sort of kind of wished he could, but his lunch was during another period.

And he and England actually still weren't talking much. America spoke to the entire band before and during practices, and England would often provide input. After practices, clipped and short conversations between them would ensue. But nothing… big. He frowned and sighed at this, a cafeteria French fry half hanging out of his mouth.

Belarus was resting her hand on America's forearm, and he barely registered her presence. She'd grown increasingly more intimate as the days had passed, in hopes that Russia would finally confront her.

"Are you all right, America?" Japan asked, taking a sip from his bottle of tea.

America darted up, eyes wide, as he was snapped out of his reverie. "Huh? Oh yeah, I'm cool."

Canada poked at his slice of pizza. "You know, eh… have we actually decided what song we're performing in the first round?"

America grinned. "Yeah well, we've been practicing a few, you know? I'm kind of leaning toward one but…"

"What is it, America?" Japan queried.

"I'd need backup vocals in one part," he explained, running a hand through his hair as he did so.

"Oh for Christ's sake, ask ENGLAND, eh."

He gestured wildly with his arms, knocking Belarus away in the process. "C'mon Canada, are you serious? It's enough that he's agreed to do what he did. England will probably go ballistic if I ask him for anything else…"

Japan leveled him a calm but serious stare. "You did mention that he was a good singer at one point, and if he sings anything like he plays the guitar, I imagine he is excellent."

America shifted in his chair, twitching a bit as Belarus resumed holding his forearm. "I'll think about it. Song could still be awesome without backup vocals though…" He paused, pointing out in front of himself with a fry as he continued. "Anyway, am I the only one totally weirded out by England?"

Canada made a slurping sound with his straw, and Japan was silent. "Really! He's so fucking uptight, but when we start to practice he just… I don't know." He flushed as he recalled England's movements on the guitar, his expressions as he played, the way in which he--- "It's like he becomes a totally different guy."

Japan rested his hand under his chin. "It's his hobby, America. People do have different sides to them."

"But---"

"And if you'll excuse me for saying this, I am wondering if perhaps he's trying to catch your attention?"

America barked out a short laugh. "Seriously, Japan?" He attempted to quell his subconscious, which was trying to finish the rest of that statement with _he already has._

* * *

America fisted his hands at his side, clenching his eyes shut and breathing deeply. He shouldn't have been nervous about something so stupid. Asking England to sing backup in one part of the song? It was no biggie, but England's intense reaction the last time he'd asked him a favor rose in his mind.

And he just didn't want to risk England's anger again, didn't want to risk him leaving the band.

Okay! So if England said no, he'd just leave it at that. He wouldn't press, and he'd tell him it was cool with him that he didn't want to do it.

England was packing up his guitar, and although he had already reverted back to his standard stodgy old self, America saw something in his expression remaining; something rebellious, a spark of the side of him that emerged when he played his guitar. This was not the first time America had noticed this. He had in fact, for the last few days. And America imagined what it would be like if that edge of something kept taking longer and longer to vanish after each practice. Maybe it would result in England lightening up a bit, becoming more like the person America had been friends with before. Oh sure, England had always been uptight. But he'd gotten worse, so much worse… really. That was probably an idle hope though, America concluded, as he approached England and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hmm, America," England responded, standing up straight and turning to look at the taller boy.

America smiled, a bit sheepishly, and rubbed the back of his head. Okay seriously. It had been almost a week since he'd talked to Canada and Japan about asking England to do this. He was being lame, not awesome. This needed to be remedied, and fast. "I have a favor to ask, England."

England stiffened. Possibly a bad word choice. Oops.

"What is it?"

America cringed inwardly. "I think I've decided on our song for the first round!"

England cocked an eyebrow. "Oh really? Because we have been practicing several, and I was wondering when you were going to actually _choose_ one."

He forced a smile. "Yeah! I really like how we do _A Praise Chorus_. I think we rock it pretty hard. Sounds really awesome…"

The other student nodded. "Yes, it does sound quite decent." He blinked. "That's settled then. What's this _favor_?"

America laughed shortly, nervously rubbing his forearm as he did so. "Well it's just that the song has one part with backup vocals, and… I know you're playing the guitar and everything and that's a lot of work but…"

"I can do it," England interrupted. "Just the _crimson and clover_ bit, right?"

"Y-yeah that's it!"

"All right, that's not a problem." America deflated in relief. Just… that easy. He just had to ask him, and England agreed without a second thought? He felt a bit, what was the word England would use? Daft, that's it.

"Great! That's great!" America proclaimed, beaming with enthusiasm.

"You should know though that---"

"Yeah, yeah, it's just to beat France. I know."America waved his words away. "Anyway, do you wanna grab a bite to eat?" The words were out of his mouth before he even registered the thought, and his eyes widened. _Did I actually just ask…_

His cheeks flushed red, but England's glowed even brighter. "Y-you're asking me out to eat?" He clarified, his voice quiet.

America bit his lip, staring at his sneakers as if they were deeply fascinating. "Well you're probably busy, and I have homework so--- "

"All right."

"Wha---"

"I don't see why not," England continued. "I'm a tad famished, honestly."

America's grin widened, and he practically bounced over to retrieve his backpack. "Awesome!"

England coughed, turning away to hide a blush as he did so. "R-right. Well I need to take my guitar back to the dorm, so perhaps we could meet up?"

America shrugged. "I'll just walk back with you. S'no problem."

"Fine enough then," he replied, his green eyes growing large in surprise.

"Great!" And the two departed the room together, England with his guitar slung over his shoulder and America with his backpack over his.

* * *

"And then France, moron that he is, says 'I thought we were celebrating freedom of expression.'" England's eyes crinkled at the corners in mirth, stifling laughter.

America grinned. "So let me get this straight. He comes to the student council meeting, takes off his clothes because you told him it was 'freedom of expression day,' and you…"

"We lock him out of the office, and he's stuck without them. Which would have been dandy for him, because as if he cares, the bloody pervert… but the principal walked right by and well…"

America busted out laughing. "Oh man, oh man…"

"He was unfortunately, not kicked out of student council. He managed to fashion a decent enough excuse." He sighed at this. "But he wasn't allowed at meetings for two weeks, and he nearly shrivels up and dies anytime he sees the principal now."

America leaned back in his booth, taking a bite out of his burger and smiling softly to himself. This was the third day of this. England had been coming to grab a bite to eat with him after every practice since the first time he'd asked, and it was… really sort of cool.

The first night had been awkward, and the conversation had been stilted and forced. But by the end of their meal, they'd loosened up a bit. And the next practice, America had the wonderful idea of asking him again, because why not? He was hungry, and who liked going out to eat by themselves?

And as it went on, they grew more at ease with each other, and their discussions grew more natural, and on dinner three (always fast food, because it was the awesomest), they were laughing together and--- his heart beat a little faster. Dinner three. It had been six days since he'd first asked England to join him to eat.

"Concert is tomorrow. You ready?" America took a gulp from his Coca-Cola.

England shrugged. "Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

America grinned. "I really think we're gonna nail this England. Hero Frequency sounds so amazing…"

He chortled. "I admit. You're a bit more competent than I'd anticipated. Just as long as we're good enough to beat France…"

The other boy tossed a fry up in the air and caught it. "Beat France? We're gonna win this whole damn thing!"

England finished swallowing a chicken nugget. "Prussia's band isn't the only one. I've heard here and there that some of the others are quite talented. Finland's band in particular…"

"Oh, Northern Cross?"

"Yes, that's them. They've got an interesting set of players…"

"Hmm?" America leaned forward curiously.

England held up a finger, as if counting. "Finland is the lead vocalist, also doing some guitar, with Sweden as lead guitarist and Denmark on drums. Iceland is in charge of keyboard…"

"Who is their bassist, Norway?"

He shook his head. "Norway is their violinist."

"Huh?"

England shrugged. "They're going for a kind of metal with a splash of classical sound. That's what I've heard, at least."

America tapped his chin. "Hm. Well what else is there?"

He took a sip of his sweet tea (which America remembered, he'd complained about at first, but he suspected that England secretly loved it). "Well there's Seychelles, Zimbabwe, Kenya, and Cameroon. They've got a pop thing going on, mostly vocals and dancing. Korea managed to drag China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong into something. I have no idea what they're up to. With Korea, there's really no guessing…"

America chuckled at this. "Yeah, that's true."

"Lithuania is a good friend of yours, so I'm sure you know about Poland's band…"

"Drastic Fabulous?" America snorted. "Yeah, Poland got Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia in on it. I think Poland's the only one that's really into it…"

"Not surprising." England leaned back in the booth, glancing outside. America followed his gaze. The sun was setting, painting rich purples and oranges across the sky. "Looks lovely…"

"Mhmm…" America adjusted his glasses. "Hey, who is in Prussia's band anyway?"

England started. "Oh, yes. At first it was just France, Prussia, and Spain, but the tossers managed to convince Austria and Hungary to join at the last minute…"

"Eh, no big deal."

"Git. Austria is a trained classical pianist," England retorted, his expression sour. "He's certainly a big deal."

America smiled, genuine and aimed directly at England. "Hey, don't worry about it. We've practiced a lot, plus we're awesome as is."

England's eyebrows raised at this, and his cheeks flushed. "_We're_ awesome?"

At this, America's face bloomed red, and he motioned wildly in front of him. "I meant well--- Hero Frequency, the band. I mean, I'm the lead!"

He rolled his eyes, but barely concealed a smile. "You're so daft."

* * *

America paced back and forth, practically bouncing on his feet between steps. They were backstage in the school's theatre, and it was the day of the first round. _We're going to be awesome, we're going to be awesome_, he told himself as a mantra. Japan was sitting calmly behind him, snacking on a bento box he'd brought along. Canada was doing the same, and Belarus was picking at hers. Speaking of…

He sat down next to them. Japan had brought bento boxes for the entire band, and they were sort of um… cute. Japan really liked cute things, but the fact that he'd organized the food in their respective bento boxes to look like their instruments of choice, was… really kind of funny. He picked at his microphone made of food, nestled in the middle of a bed of white rice.

"England's gonna be cutting is close getting here…" America spoke in between bites. "He called me."

"You've told us this three times, eh," Canada replied as he bit into a drumstick made of cooked vegetables.

Japan smiled, munching on his keyboard. "Indeed."

"You guys all look ready. We're on fifth by the way, after Northern Cross."

Canada nodded. "And Glorious Awesome is after us, right?"

America confirmed this with a shake of his head. "And Russia is definitely in the audience, I saw him." He glanced to Belarus.

Belarus was decked out in a pretty damn amazing dress, black with red ruffles and a corset. There were belts hanging from the corset, in accordance to her tall black boots that bore several straps and buckles. She sucked on the top of her vegetable guitar and smiled. "I'm ready then."

Japan was wearing a pressed black suit with a bright pink dress shirt, and Canada, in contrast, a far more casual favorite old hockey jersey and jeans. America had told everyone to wear what they deemed appropriate.

He'd spent days trying to find the perfect t-shirt to wear under his black jacket and plaid hoodie. It had to say hero on it! They were _Hero_ Frequency, and he was the lead, which meant he was the hero of course. It said, _Who is Your Hero_, which he figured could be some kind of cool rallying cry when they came out to accept after they won the competition.

Speaking of, within minutes, the competition was beginning. Seychelles and the Rainbows were up first, and he thought they were solid, but he was barely listening. England still wasn't there, and he knew he said he was going to be getting there at the last minute, but as the first band led into Korea and the Battery Powered Wonder, band number two, he began to fret.

England should be here by now… What if he'd decided at the last minute to back out? He had always been shy about performing publicly, and America didn't know if he'd ever even played in front of a large audience before. They might be able to pull this thing off without someone else, but England was essential.

"I'm sure he'll be here," Japan comforted, noticing America's discomfort.

He nodded. "Y-yeah…"

Korea and the Battery Powered Wonder took their leave off the stage, and Drastic Fabulous went out there to queue up.

Only two more songs, and still no England…

_Maybe France participating wasn't enough to get him to do it in the end. Maybe all the time we've spent together was… just…_ He cut his thoughts off. _Maybe he just can't handle Hero Frequency's awesome!_

"Are you ready to get fabulous?" Poland shouted from onstage, although America still wasn't really listening. The crowd erupted into applause, and Poland yelled "THINK PINK!" as Latvia kicked off the song with a short drum solo.

He wanted to tune in, because Lithuania was one of his best friends, but America didn't register the entirety of the song. And by the time Poland, Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia stepped backstage, America was panicking.

America felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. "Lithuania?"

The other boy smiled. "Good luck, America. Truthfully, I don't expect to make it past this round…"

"What are you talking about?" America grinned. "You were awesome," he lied, because he hadn't even heard them, really.

Lithuania flushed a bit. "Thank you, America." He leaned down, whispering, "Poland just really wanted to do this…"

America had kind of figured that out on his own. It honestly did sound like one of Poland's infamous whims.

"Ah yeah, makes sense," he replied. "Hey I've got to---"

"I apologize for being late," a very _British_ voice interrupted him.

"England?" He exhaled in relief, his nerves ebbing, as he darted his eyes from Lithuania to the backstage door.

Immediately though, his eyes widened, and his cheeks bloomed bright crimson.

England was---

What the hell.

England had his precious guitar slung over his front, as usual. But instead of wearing a well pressed suit, as America had anticipated, he was wearing….

A leather jacket, a relieved green t-shirt, a red kerchief around his neck and…

_Tight leather pants. _

Tight black leather pants, which fit to the curve of his legs and ended only to reveal a pair of shiny red skate shoes.

It was like America had fallen into some weird twilight zone. First, England was totally hardcore when he played the guitar, rocking out with more vigor than any of his other band members. Then, he shows up at the concert dressed in the least stodgy thing America could possibly imagine.

America's mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert as he attempted to formulate words. The ones that came to mind, in between gaping like a fish, were something like 'wow,' 'what the hell,' 'awesome,' and most bewilderingly '_hot._'

Yeah, he didn't know what _that _one was. "England, what are you wearing?" was what he finally managed, although he was aware of the fact that it came out in almost a rasp.

England flushed. "Clothes, you git." He'd entered the room fully, and was standing just a few feet away from America, who had yet to tear his eyes away from him. "You told us to wear what we'd like to."

America nodded. "Y-yeah but…"

England glanced down, and his shoulders slumped slightly. It looked off; clothing that required such confidence to wear, in contrast to his actions, which evoked embarrassment and anxiety. England was so contradictory. "I can change, if it's a problem. I brought something else…"

America gestured wildly. "N-no, it's fine! Just… did you buy that?"

England leveled him a look, standing up straighter. "Idiot, do you think I was going to spend money for this thing? I already owned this."

America kind of felt like maybe his brain had shattered into a hundred pieces, or perhaps turned into goo and dripped out of the side of his ear. It was blank, filled only with the image of England in leather pants and… more England in leather pants, to be honest. Just a lot of… tight black pants and a Union Jack emblazoned guitar, and imagining him holding it over those pants and playing and his fingers and---

A loud voice interrupted his musings, _thank god. _

"Ladies and Gentleman," came Finland's voice, and it was brazen and bold, nothing like the sweet-mannered voice he usually spoke in, "are you ready to _Hard Rock Hallelujah_?"

America kind of thought, that he was ready to do just that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** This chapter is a monster for me. 5k long. The chapter fic deadline was extended, so that's why this wasn't finished by Christmas Eve. It will be done by the first of the year. Thanks for all your amazing feedback.

* * *

**Hero Frequency**

_Chapter Three_

**By Everything is Magic**

**

* * *

  
**

A prolonged note on Norway's violin, prompted by a loud riff on Denmark's drums kicked their song off, and Finland's surprisingly brusque singing voice came in next, although the lyrics were just a murmur in America's ears, so focused was he on---

"America… is something wrong?"

England.

America started up, his eyes widening. Oh god, he hoped England had not noticed the way in which he was totally staring (not that he was staring) at him.

Because yeah, that would be um, really embarrassing.

"Nothing's wrong!" America replied, grinning widely. "Hey! Uh, Japan made us all bento, if you wanna eat it before we go out."

England shook his head, and America tried to concentrate on that instead of his--- "Well it's probably not the best idea for me to eat so soon before we perform. It will be just a few minutes, after all…"

"Oh yeah…" He scratched the back of his head and finally managed to tear his gaze away, staring instead at the dark concrete floor of the backstage area. "So are you ready?"

England blinked and stroked the front of his guitar. "Oh I'm quite ready." And there was a hint of that confidence, that _smirk_, that he so often wore when he played.

America gulped. "Awesome. Well I'm counting on you as my backup!"

The other boy rolled his eyes at this. "I'm not your bloody backup."

"Well uh, actually you are, there's that part where you're singing back---"

"Shut it!" He tossed the messenger bag he was carrying, which America had hitherto not noticed and assumed held his spare clothing, onto a plastic chair.

America glanced up to England and looked away when he discovered that England was staring straight at him.

"Rock 'n roll angels bring thyn Hard Rock Hallelujah," came Finland's voice from the stage, backed up by his band. _Oh yeah_, there was someone performing right now.

"They're uh, pretty good," America said. "I mean, I haven't been paying that much attention, too busy getting ready myself but… yeah, sort of great."

England blinked, and he stepped a bit closer to America, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Finland's band? Yes, quite. I'd heard as much, but to hear them…"

"Don't worry England, we're way more awesome!" Unthinkingly, he slapped his hand onto England's shoulder and rested it there. The shorter student stiffened, his face blooming bright pink.

He flashed him a brilliant smile, and England relaxed, infinitesimally. "Yes, you had mentioned that."

"It's true!" And then America noticed the placement of his hand and pulled away, flustered, his cheeks heating up, which was weird, because seriously, it was just a hand on a shoulder. Why would doing something like that embarrass him?

England frowned, raising a hand up to rub the spot America's hand had been in. "Right well…"

America laughed nervously, raking a hand through his hair as he did so. "Wanna run through the part we sing together? I mean I know it's a little loud with Finland's band and all but…"

"No, no… that's not a bad idea." England nodded. America grinned.

"Okay uh, good." He exhaled. "You start in one two three— "

"Crimson and clover, over and over," began England, his voice clear and self-assured. America watched him sing, his lips forming around each word, sure and strong and--- okay yeah, really damn good. "Crimson and clover, over and over," he sang again, and upon repeating the phrase, America came in on the second word.

"Our house in the middle of the street, why did we ever meet? Started my rock 'n' roll fantasy," America paused for a fraction of a second, registering how England gazed at him intently, and he felt his heart swell a bit and his confidence rise. England continued to sing his part, and America did as well. The taller boy leaned in a bit, in attempt to hear better over the din of Northern Cross.

"Don't, don't, don't let's start. Why did we ever part?" He heard a sharp intake of breath from England at this, but they both trudged onward. "Kick start my rock 'n' rolling heart."

They both cut their words off in the same moment, and England shook his head. "Uh, great." His cheeks were lightly flushed, and America's own face felt hot as well. He jerked away. It was odd. They'd sung this part together many times in practice, but this was the first time they'd done it face to face, without the rest of the band and---

_Why did we ever part?_ America repeated the lyrics in his mind, registering, really registering what he had been singing for the first time. He wondered if England's sudden gasp before had been for the same reason.

England shifted on his feet, ran a hand through his hair, squared his shoulders, and cleared his throat. "Right well, let's stop dawdling. If you hadn't noticed, there's some rather loud applause going on out there, meaning Northern Cross is about to leave the stage."

"Oh um…" He hadn't noticed, which was, yeah, what the hell? America shook his head, and everything around him came back into clarity. It was like, when England entered the room, in his crazy pants and his--- so _not_ stodgy appearance, he'd totally tuned everything out. And not just the band on stage, but, oh yeah, Canada and Japan were over there chatting with each other, and the members of Glorious Awesome were standing together in a circle over in the corner, Lithuania was nowhere to be found, presumably having gone to join the audience for the rest of the competition, and Belarus was silent, but she was still there.

And Finland had just pushed the backstage curtain aside, stepping backstage with his band members behind him. America noticed for the first time that he was wearing tall black boots with buckles and platforms, raising him to just a couple of inches shorter than Sweden. And well, the rest of his clothes were pretty---

"Good luck, America," Finland interrupted. He had halted just a few feet from America and was smiling politely and genuinely. "I'm sure you'll do great!"His voice was back to its normal gentle and sweet tenor.

America grinned, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, thanks. You guys were really cool!"

"Oh well, thank you!" Finland shifted, slightly embarrassed, and America realized that he was actually looking _up_ at the normally shorter student. Sweden, smiled, or at least, America assumed it was supposed to be a smile. It was a sort of… bizarre turn up of the mouth that looked freakier than it did friendly.

"M'wife's p'rfect. C'rse we did gr't," he complimented. Finland blushed.

"S-Sweden I'm not---" he sighed. "Oh never mind, let's go join the audience."

Sweden nodded, placing an arm on Finland's back. The other three followed them, Denmark yelping something about Northern Cross Forever, Norway rolling his eyes at him and quipping a 'be quiet,' and Iceland sighing to himself and bringing up the rear.

Finland's tall platform boots pounded, despite walking softly, as he closed the backstage door and left with his band. America was struck by the fact that England wasn't the only person who was revealing a totally different side today. Although England's was so much stranger, because while Finland may have been sweet and genial, at least he wasn't some crotchety old man stuck in the body of a teenage—

"America!" Said teenager was scowling at him, and America was sure he'd have crossed his arms had he not been holding his guitar. "We're all ready, let's get out there."

America beamed. "Yeah, let's do this thing."

* * *

"Set your dials, to tune into the Hero Frequency!" America yelled into the microphone, his voice emanating from the speakers of the school's large theatre, filled to the brim with students as it was. His blue eyes flashed as he shot a quick nod to Canada, who kicked off the song with three taps on his cymbal. Then a glance to England, who jumped in, then Belarus, then Japan, and then he took a breath and began to sing.

He gripped the microphone tightly, trying his damndest not to look at England, but instead to focus on the crowd in front of them. He was mostly successful, because as (shockingly) cool as England probably looked rocking out on his guitar in that getup, America was worried that he might get… distracted with him again. Instead, he played to the audience, moving around on the stage and smiling his million-watt smile whenever he could. The microphone came off the stand early in the song, and he held it.

As one verse led into the next, America did chance a glance at Belarus, whose petticoated skirt swished and bopped in time to the music, then Japan, who looked more emotive than usual as he played the keyboard. Belarus also winked at one point, which America took to mean that she'd found Russia and was playing to him.

He didn't know how she spotted him. Beyond the bright stage lighting, the audience was just dim outlines, barely discernable as anything more than a bunch of shady blobs. Knowing Belarus though, she probably had a sixth sense or something, especially honed for locating her beloved Russia.

America could make out the first couple of rows though (Russia wasn't in them), and the audience did seem to be taken to them, smiles on their faces and at one point, clapping to the beat, plus there were cheers during some of the more impressive instrumental and vocal riffs. Awesome. Not that they'd be anything but awesome, but still---

Oh yeah fuck, England was singing now. This was their duet, and they'd sort of discussed standing next to each other while doing it, which meant that…

"Crimson and clover, over and over…" The second go around.

"Our house in the middle of the street," America piped up, leaping beside England, who had taken residence in front of the other standing microphone.

He made eye contact with England, and this was different, more frantic and fevered than their performance backstage. Which was probably a good thing, because then they didn't have time to dwell on the words and distract themselves. Although England's bright green eyes, filled with a wanton love of performing, were…

Uh, yeah. "Why did we ever meet?" And the high flush of his cheeks, and the way sweat was starting to form on his forehead and cause his bangs to cling to his sort of… well uh, expressive eyebrows. Oh and his fingers, his damn hands strumming those strings again. Plus the god-forsaken pants. "Started my rock 'n' roll fantasy!"

England threw his head back, and America remembered that he was supposed to be watching the audience. He turned away from England, _not looking, not looking._ "Don't, don't, don't let's start. Why did we ever part? Kick start my rock 'n' rolling heart…"

He jumped away from England, back to the center of the stage. "I'm on my feet, I'm on the floor, I'm good to go!" All right, back to the normal Englandless part of the song. England was over there playing of course, but America didn't have to stand next to him now. This was for the better, because England was annoying and kept trying to divert his attention from playing, which was honestly stupid of him, because if the hero forgot the lyrics, they might lose to France.

And as the song began to wind down, America was feeling pretty confident, that they had delivered upon their promise to present pure awesome in the form of Hero Frequency. Just a little bit more, he repeated the last line one more time "I wanna fall in love tonight…"

England held one last long note on the guitar, and when he let go, America whooped out loud and pumped the air with his fist, absorbing every bit of the student body's positive reaction. "That's Japan on keyboard." Japan smiled and waved at the audience. "Canada on drums." Canada banged a symbol. "Belarus on bass." Belarus blew a kiss, aimed directly where Russia was, no doubt. "England on lead guitar." England smirked and raised his guitar over his head. "And me, America, on lead vocals!" The crowd cheered. "Thanks so much! You guys are awesome!" He proclaimed to the roar of the crowd.

He waved one more time and practically leapt off the stage, bouncing in excitement, the rest of his band following, Belarus and England once they'd quickly unplugged their guitars.

* * *

Glorious Awesome was quite possibly the_ least_ awesome thing America had ever heard. Oh it wasn't all bad. Austria had paid to have his baby grand brought to the theatre, and he played like the pro he was. Hungary and France were pretty good as well, and Spain was decent.

But Prussia was…

It was intended to be metal, but his vocals were somewhere between the spectrum of mind-blowingly bad and worse than anything America had ever seen while watching the tryouts for American Idol.

He was less bewildered by Prussia's bad vocals, and more confused by the fact that his band members had actually agreed to back him up. Especially Austria. He glanced to England as they finished, who was rather gaping like a fish. They'd decided to stay backstage for the song, because England 'didn't want to see that frog's face from the audience.' And whatever, no reason not to humor him. America really didn't care whether they watched them from the crowd or not.

They exited the stage, Prussia looking pumped, and everyone but Spain looking positively mortified.

Austria was more than mortified. He was fuming, huffing and stomping his feet, arms crossed over his chest. Hungary was attempting to calm him down, but she too, was shooting daggers at Prussia with her eyes.

"I can't believe!" He stepped toward Prussia, eyes narrowed. "I can't believe that I brought my piano here for this. It will take forever to get it back in tune! Not to mention, you've publicly humiliated me to a level that--- "

"Dude, chill. We were awesome, four-eyes." Prussia shrugged.

"You most certainly were not!" Austria snapped. "A level that has destroyed my credibility as a classical pianist at this school! Imagine that scholarships that I might lose because of this."

Prussia rolled his eyes. "You've got enough money to buy a college, you don't need a scholar---"

"Well excuse me for being financially intelligent. I am not going to spend money on university unless I absolutely have to, which I probably will now because--- "

Hungary shook her head and sighed, placing a hand on Austria's forearm. "Austria," she spoke calmly, "as completely idiotic as Prussia is, I don't think you'll lose any scholarship chances because of that."

"See! The lady knows--- "

"That being said," Hungary interrupted, gritting her teeth, "who in the world told you that you were qualified to lead a band?"

France ran a hand through his hair. "It was not me. Spain and I have been practicing for a couple of weeks, but Prussia never showed up when I was there," he explained, "I just imagined that he felt he was ready. It was probably not the best idea to do this performance without practicing together as a full band but--- "

"Not a good idea!" Austria scoffed. "An understatement, but I thought I was skilled enough that when you asked me and Hungary at the last minute… I agreed."

Hungary frowned; hand still on Austria's arm. "I guess we should have known something was up when Prussia didn't show up to the one practice we went to, _the day before the concert_…."

"Hey!" Prussia cut in, "I didn't need to come to practices. The awesome me doesn't need to---"

"Surely one of you had heard Prussia sing before this show?" Austria interrupted sharply. All eyes went to Spain, who had remained silent up to that point.

Spain laughed, looking a bit guilty. "Ah, I didn't really notice that he was bad?" He shifted. "I just… well I don't know anything about metal, so I assumed he was supposed to sound like that."

Prussia grinned. "Metal IS supposed to sound like that!"

France rubbed his forehead. "I believe metal should sound more like what the very attractive Northern Cross performed?"

Austria and Hungary nodded in agreement.

"Especially Finland… he was… unexpectedly---"

"Man, Sweden is going to kill you for even thinking that," Prussia snorted.

France sighed. "Thoughts never hurt anyone. Anyway--- I imagine it is over for us now?"

Austria frowned. "It is for us," he paused, "but Prussia?"

"What is it, four eyes?"

"You are to pay me back the money I spent to have my piano moved, and quickly," he demanded, curtly.

Prussia groaned. "Ah man. You are so fucking not awesome."

* * *

America grinned to himself, bouncing on his feet, as he packed up to leave the show. They'd advanced! Along with Korea and the Battery Powered Wonder and Northern Cross. This was so, so awesome. Not that there was any doubt, because Hero Frequency was the coolest band ever, but now it was official!

Two more rounds and they'd have this thing. England had already left, Japan had departed with Greece, and now it was just him and Canada. He beamed at his brother.

"So how great are we?" He queried.

Canada smiled. "Pretty good, eh. I thought we all nailed it! You and England on that duet part, you were really impressive."

America's cheeks pinked at that. "Th-thanks. I mean luckily England had my awesome to bounce off of…"

He chuckled. "Well England was pretty awesome out there too, eh? I'm sure you think so."

He shrugged, but couldn't help a smile. "Y-yeah, I guess he was."

Canada rolled a drumstick along his fingers, flitting his eyes away as he did so. "'Though now that France is out of the picture…"

America paused in his movements, his stomach dropping and panic forming. "E-England's gonna drop… now that he has what he wants."

"Now, I'm sure he won't. I mean I think the France thing was just an excuse, eh…"

But America barely registered his words. He gulped, a tight knot forming in his stomach and a frown growing on his face. His blue eyes were wide, and he turned away, facing the wall. England… can't leave. He expected his first thought to be, what about the band!

But it wasn't.

It was… he couldn't quite form a complete thought. Spending time with England, he… liked it? It was… reforming their relationship, it was good! And there was something else, something kind of like, when he'd seen England today, it felt different. He'd sort of consciously thought that he was_ hot_. What the fuck was_ that_? _It was probably some side-effect of those weird pants… _

And he felt hurt. England couldn't do this to him, could he? Dump him after all this hard work, just because France wasn't involved anymore. It was about more than that now! It was about winning this whole damn thing, right? About being awesome.

About them?

His cheeks bloomed red_. Well if England quits, so be it. Belarus can cover his part._ He willed the ache to go away at the thought of England departing.

America slung a bag over his shoulder, faking a grin. "D'you wanna grab something to eat, bro?"

Canada blinked. "Sure I guess…"

"Do you mind--- "

"Eh, I'll pay, don't worry," he sighed.

* * *

Monday's practice could not have come soon enough. America had been fretting and trying not to fret over England the entire weekend, and it had ruined it. He hadn't been able to have any fun! Japan had purchased a new video game, and America's mind had been so elsewhere that he'd only finished the game in a third of the time listed as average gameplay, as opposed to his usual fifth of the amount of time. He'd also turned down a free hamburger, when Japan couldn't finish the rest of his two cheeseburgers combo meal on a trip to McDonald's. Japan and Canada had honestly wondered if he was ill and had dually recommended a visit to the school nurse.

He could have just called England, but somehow, that idea was scarier than just waiting. Not that he was scared. Belarus could totally cover. It was just more annoying to be turned down vocally. He'd rather just find out by England not showing up. And if England didn't show up, it was because he was a chicken and didn't think he could keep up with Hero Frequency the rest of the competition.

Because the other option was worse; that England really was leaving because France was out, which meant that he didn't care about America and---

He shook his head and interrupted his thoughts by calling out to Canada to pass him a CD. They were flipping through America's CD collection, in attempt to decide what to perform next. The practice was starting in twenty minutes, and they wanted to have some ideas prepared. The second round was to be two songs- one cover, and one original song.

"I'm sure he'll come," Canada said, flipping past a Franz Ferdinand CD.

America grinned, a bit lopsided and false. "What makes you think I'm worried about that?"

Canada leveled him a skeptical look.

"Look, even if he drops, it doesn't matter. Belarus can play his part!"

"Whatever, eh."

The door creaked open and Japan came in, joining them beside the pile of CDs. "I assume we're working on selecting a song?"

America nodded.

"Ah, I apologize. I'm not familiar with most of these bands…"

He smiled. "S'fine Japan. We've got it covered."

"Are you feeling any better?" He asked, looking at the back of a discarded album.

"Oh, I'm fine," America faked a laugh. "Actually… I was never sick."

Japan blinked. "Did you get yourself checked? I'm just--- "

"You'd best not be sick, git," came a new voice, and America's eyes grew wide, as he dared to glance around.

"E-England?" It wasn't a dramatic entrance like the first time he'd shown up to practice. He'd just slipped in the partially open door and come to join them like any other practice. America hadn't even noticed…

"Yes, that's me," England replied, placing his guitar on a table and sitting down next to America. "So I take out we're trying to decide on our next cover? Bloody hell you've got a lot of CDs…"

America's heart leapt up in his throat, which he thought was kind of cheesy, but damn if it didn't happen. England was here. England was here with his guitar and helping them pick out a CD and… ready for practice. He gulped, eyes meeting the other student's. His cheeks pinked, and so did England's. They both looked away.

He cleared his throat, finally managing to speak again. "But… France is out…"

"Indeed he is, and his band was so terrible I almost felt bad for him," he paused, "_almost_." England's lips curled up in a small smirk.

"But you… I thought you were only in this to beat Fra---"

"Are we going to win this bloody thing or not?" England cut in, his green eyes flashing determination. "I'm in this to win."

America beamed, brighter than sunshine, and before he could think, he had his arms wrapped around England's center in an embrace, his head resting on the shorter boy's shoulder. Japan and Canada had been completely forgotten. America rubbed his hands up and down England's back, muttering something about 'thank you' and 'so awesome.'

England stiffened and froze, but relaxed after a few moments. He patted America on the back as well.

It was only when America actually remembered Canada and Japan, that his face heated up and he swore he must have been red as a traffic light, England even redder. They both shoved away, laughing feebly as they did so.

But the feeling of England's warm body in his arms lingered in America's mind, and he found himself smiling to himself anytime he thought back on it during practice. Okay, he also got a little flustered, but was… a nice flustered.

England was staying! He wasn't in this because of France at all, at least not anymore. He was as into the practice as ever. This was so awesome that America felt like maybe he kind of sort of wanted to burst. Since when did England make him so damn happy? Or maybe not England but…

Yeah, England.

They'd totally have to keep doing their dinner dates--- err… times they went out to eat together, rather.

* * *

America and England did continue going out to eat together, and America's heart felt a little lighter every time they did.

This was hanging out with England, like it used to be, before everything went sour. Two guys who didn't seem to have much in common on the surface but… just kind of worked. That had always been him and England, and he had never really realized how much he'd missed that.

But it was a little different now. Maybe it was because they were a year older, or maybe it was those pants again, although America was half considering that the latter was a dumb excuse, the former kind of being one too.

They'd actually gone out to eat somewhere a little nicer that night, a week after their first second round practice, than the local McDonald's, and America had even changed out of his school uniform and into some nicer clothes before joining England at the popular Italian restaurant. Canada had teased him when he'd stopped by the dorm to change, saying he was going on a date. He was totally wrong, of course. Ironing his clothes before going didn't mean anything, and neither did picking up England from his dorm and escorting him to the restaurant.

It's not like there had been flowers or something mushy like that.

America spotted a flower booth on the sidewalk as they journeyed back to the dorms on foot and immediately perished the thought. _That would be dumb._

He glanced over to England, who had the smallest of content smiles on his face. He had changed as well, although to be honest, his uniform was usually so pristine, that it probably would have been nice enough. But England looked kind of…

Well, when he was smiling like that, which America knew was something not many people witnessed, he looked kind of… cute.

His cheeks flushed at this. Unthinkingly, he reached his hand out toward England, but pulled back once he registered what he was doing. America shook his head. _What was getting into him?_

"You all right, America?" England quirked one of his prominent (but not really in a bad way at all oh god why was he thinking this) eyebrows.

America grinned. "Awesome!" He scratched the back of his head. "I had fun tonight…"

England's face heated up. "I-I did as well…"

They crossed the street, flashing their IDs to enter the dormitory area of their school. "Hey um, are you still… having trouble with that pre-calc homework?"

England huffed slightly. "I-I'm sure I can handle it…"

America chuckled. "Math has never been your strong point."

"Well what about your project for literature?" They were walking amongst the dorms now, lamp light lighting the way, the sun having set at least an hour ago. There was a tiny scowl on England's face, which was like the smile, kind of adorable.

"Yeah that's the thing!" America spoke swiftly, ending that train of thought. "I thought you could help me with that, if I helped you with your pre-calc? That way we're both getting something we need. That's fair… right?"

England blinked, but nodded. "All right."

They had stopped in front of England's dorm. "We'll do your pre-calc tonight. It's due first, right?"

"Y-yes it is."

America grinned. "Great then! Guess you'll be getting the most heroic math tutor ever then?"

England rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were flushed high. "Idiot. Come inside, then…" He gestured for America to follow him up the steps to his dorm.

"Wh-what?" America's blue eyes grew large. He hadn't been in England's dorm forever. Not since… then. In fact, he remembered a massive fight they'd had last time he was there, which had been one of the final straws in breaking their friendship. It felt like something really personal now. He knew England was in a dorm by himself, which was a privilege he'd given himself upon becoming student council president. It did kind of suit him though, America thought, a bit sadly. England was the student council president, but he didn't have any real, honest to goodness friends.

He ached at this, and again, felt like reaching for England's hand. _Maybe that's one of the reasons England's become so… well, whatever he is now. I mean he did get progressively worse as our friendship got worse… _

_And maybe I'm why he's loosened up a little now?_ America dared to hope.

"Come inside, your daft fool," England clarified with a roll of his eyes. "Are we going to study or not?"

He nodded, giving England what he hoped was en encouraging smile. "Yeah, I'd love to!"

England's face bloomed crimson, and he turned his face away. "You'd l-love to, what does that even--- oh never mind, let's get to it." He turned the key in the lock and walked inside, America following him.

He prayed that England did not notice the huge and sort of goofily happy grin on his face.

Maybe the flowers wouldn't be such a bad idea…


End file.
